Brigit Part 04 - Christmas Debt
Copyright Oggbashan November 2004/December 2017
Minor Edit April 2018
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
Part One is 'Brigit'; Part Two is 'Brigit Too'; Part Three is 'Brigit's Babies'
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We climbed into bed, exhausted. We were side by side but too tired to do anything with or to each other. An excited three-year-old daughter had worn us out. In my head I regretted that I couldn't make love to Deirdre. We hadn't - for weeks and we were missing it. But we didn't have the energy. Christmas with an excited small child had been delightful but a reminder that neither of us were young. Our daughter Brigit might be our only child. Deirdre was getting past the age of safe child bearing.
If we didn't make love, even the remote chance of another child would be impossible. On Monday I would be back at work. The thought was depressing. Although I enjoyed my business, I was just too tired to have an enthusiasm left for it. Oh shit! Tomorrow we would have to remove the Christmas decorations. I would have to be up a ladder for hours taking down the external Christmas lights. Why had I used so many? I should have paid someone else to put them up and remove them. It was too late. Perhaps a night's uninterrupted sleep would help? I didn't know. I was just too tired to think...
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Introduction to Part Four.
I had met Brigit the Irish earth goddess. She had used me subtly first to change the lives of many oppressed and neglected women (part one) in our community and then with Deirdre to stop a refuse tip despoiling the countryside (part two). She had rewarded me both times and had brought Deirdre to me. Now we both worshipped Brigit frequently. 'Worshipping Brigit' can best be done with a man's tongue between a woman's legs. Brigit and Deirdre had made me suffer by teasing me about my inability to satisfy either of them. I had no hope of ever satisfying Brigit: no man could however fit and strong. When Brigit introduced me to Deirdre I was far from fit. A year later, after intensive training from both of them, I had become a new man sometimes capable of satisfying Deirdre - for a few hours.
Then I married Deirdre, with Brigit as bridesmaid or incognito goddess of honour, and we had a baby Brigit. The goddess Brigit, Deirdre and I helped the local midwives to save the maternity unit and encourage home births (part three).
CHRISTMAS DEBT
Our daughter Brigit had started nursery school last September. We call her Biddie to avoid confusion with the Goddess Brigit. Biddie is another version of Brigit. Deirdre had cried after she left Biddie at the door. At our ages we were unlikely to have a second child and this sign of Biddie's growing up had hurt. Soon she would be going to 'big school' and Deirdre would be alone for much of the day. I hoped to retire soon but the goddess Brigit kept finding projects to keep me and us busy. The goddess is immortal. I was feeling distinctly mortal. Even Deirdre had noticed that our lovemaking had become less energetic. Over Christmas we had stopped any bedroom activities. All we needed was sleep, lots of sleep...
It was Twelfth Night. I had removed and stored the Christmas lights. We had taken the Christmas decorations down in the afternoon. Biddie was in bed, tired out from 'helping'. Deirdre and I stood on our veranda with glasses of Irish Coffee, looking out over the valley to the lights of the nearest village. We were warmly dressed because there was a frost in the air. We both felt rather sad and very tired. Christmas was over; tomorrow Biddie would be back at Nursery school. Our normal routine would start again.
"Have you got a drink for me?"
We turned around, startled. Brigit came out through the French windows. She was in the form she usually wore, like the sister my first wife, Mary, had never had. She was still wearing a long blue dress. This time it was covered with a white fur-trimmed cloak, the hood framing her head of red-gold curls. I was instantly erect. Brigit always has that effect on me. Even disguised as Mary's sister, Brigit was the embodiment of all the desirable women I could imagine. Deirdre's hand grabbed mine. She knew the effect Brigit had on me, but I was Deirdre's.
Deirdre needn't have worried. Brigit had never harmed either of us. We had helped her do things for our community and Brigit always repaid us well for our work. Without the goddess Brigit, Deirdre and I would never have met and we wouldn't have a little Brigit to cherish.
"Well?" Brigit smiled at us. "Do I get a drink or not?"
"Of course you do," I replied. "You are always welcome in our house."
I tried to brush past her to go to get the drink. Brigit caught my arm, spun me round and kissed me full on the lips. I staggered, not from the physical move, but from the passion in that kiss. Brigit's arm circled my waist and hugged. She beckoned to Deirdre who joined us. Brigit kissed Deirdre as hard as she'd kissed me. Her other arm hugged Deirdre.
"Don't bother, Raymond," Brigit said, "I've brought drinks for all of us."
She pointed to the table just inside the room. There were three Irish Coffees. We went inside together. I shut the French windows behind us as Deirdre and Brigit shed their outer layers of clothing. Brigit's hand waved at me. My coat had gone. It would have reappeared neatly hung in the hall cupboard.
Brigit took our hands and led us to the new settee that had replaced the well-worn one that had seen so much lovemaking between the three of us.
She pushed me down onto the settee. She sat on one of my legs. Deirdre sat on the other. We sipped the Irish Coffee and I felt the familiar enjoyable sensation of drinking some of Brigit's breast milk. As always it made me feel wholly alive and wonderfully relaxed. I knew that Deirdre had the same experience.
"You two haven't worshipped me for some time," Brigit said with a smile that took the sting out of the accusation. She held up her hand to forestall our excuses.
"Never mind," she continued, "I'll make sure you make up for your omission later on. Christmas is over..."
I couldn't stop myself blurting out:
"What has Christmas to do with you, Brigit? You're a pagan goddess!"
She smiled again, the sort of smile that a mother gives a child who has said something stupid but endearing.
"Christmas may not mean much to me, Raymond. As you say, I am a pagan goddess. Some would deny me a soul or call me a demoness. I have a soul: you know I have. As for a demoness: I have some powers but I use them for good most of the time. An enlightened Christian might describe me as a fallen angel who will be redeemed at the Last Trump. That might be right. I don't feel fallen. I am an earth goddess concerned with the here and now and not the hereafter. I am no threat to believing Christians. Worshipping me and worshipping God is not necessarily incompatible. The theologists have different words to describe types of worship. I demand physical acts as worship. God asks for something very different and even He doesn't demand everything. 'Render unto Caesar' didn't Jesus say? On this world I am a kind of Caesar. Like Caesar I have no power in the next world even if his followers thought they could deify him after his death. Like Caesar had: I have power in this world."
Brigit stopped to sip her Irish coffee.
"That is really an aside, an explanation if you like. You can never wholly understand me. This time I was thinking of Christmas not as it affects me but how it affects my people, those little people who are at the mercy of the authorities, the impersonal multi-nationals, the banks and financial institutions. Christmas to them often means distress in January. For a few days of enjoyment they mortgage their future and they pay for it. How they pay..."
I could hear the pain as Brigit repeated 'pay'.
"What do you want us to do?" I asked. I knew Brigit was working up to asking us to help her again. My heart sank. Was I, were we, still capable of doing all we could to help Brigit? I wasn't getting any younger. I was fit, fitter than I had been for years before I met Brigit and then Deirdre, but I was too well aware of the years I was carrying. Biddie was a delight yet her arrival had made me feel too old to cope. How old would I be when she became an adult? It didn't seem an attractive prospect.
Brigit looked at me, sadly. She could read my thoughts. Then she acted.
I found myself lying prone on our large double bed completely naked. Brigit was naked beside me, propped against the bed head. Deirdre was lying on the other side of Brigit. Brigit reached out her arms and pulled each of us against one of her breasts. We instinctively suckled. Brigit's breast milk was and is wonderful. It revitalises us like nothing else. Neither Deirdre nor I had had a cold or even a snuffle since we first drank Brigit's milk. As I felt it trickling into my mouth the years fell away, the sadness left me, to be replaced with a calm knowledge that I was loved, protected and nurtured by a goddess. My confidence in my own abilities returned. With Brigit's help almost anything might be possible.
Brigit's thought sounded clearly in my head. 'You should worship me more often, Raymond. That would stop you feeling as bad as you have.'
Then she issued an order. 'Worship me - Now!'
I moved from her breast to her pussy. I extended my tongue and began to lick slowly. I sensed Brigit changing position until her pussy was directly above my face. My tongue tried to keep up. I couldn't reach until her body slowly lowered her pussy to my lips. Deirdre straddled my hips. Her hand guided my erection into her warm dampness. My last view before Brigit's body covered my eyes was the two of them wrapped in a passionate kiss. I had to concentrate my efforts. I had difficulty breathing until they started a seesaw movement. Deirdre thrust down on my hips; Brigit lifted to grant me a short gasp of air; Brigit squashed her pussy over me as Deirdre lifted. The movement was slow and measured. I knew from past encounters that they could keep it going for hours. Could I?
I sent a thought of appeal to Brigit. Would she help me, please? A reassuring answer came. She would prolong me as long as necessary. I would have sighed with pleasure except her pussy silenced the sigh.
I don't know how long we continued. I was aware of Deirdre reaching several orgasms above me. Brigit's pussy became warmer and more demanding above me. She shuddered several times and then there was a short instant of cool air above me. I gulped a few breaths before Deirdre's wet pussy claimed my face and Brigit engulfed my long-lasting erection. Soon after that I erupted into the goddess's body and relaxed into a half-conscious state as they continued to seesaw on me.
I woke briefly to find that Brigit alongside me with her breast in my mouth. Her milk was dribbling down my throat. Deirdre's body was pressed against my back. She was asleep. I looked up at Brigit's face. She smiled at me: the smile almost of a mother pleased with her son. Her hand stroked my forehead and I too went to sleep.
The next morning I was alone in the bed. I felt more relaxed and rested than I had been for a long time. I jumped out of bed, shaved, washed and dressed. The morning seemed glorious despite the sleet lashing at the windows. I followed the scent of breakfast to the kitchen. As I opened the door the smell of cooking seemed heavenly. I sat down at the kitchen table savouring the sensations in my nose. Brigit put a full English breakfast in front of me. I opened my eyes wide at the size of it.
